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Catslyn's Shorties

Hey all,
This thread is for the assorted short stories that I am sometimes plagued to write. They make a nice break from my epics. This first one is entitled, "Stolen." Don't take it too seriously. Others will follow when the mad muse strikes me.

***

Adam walked into his father’s office feeling decidedly nervous. The king had been acting very strange at dinner the evening before. Very strange. And this morning, the prince had found a note that had clearly been slipped under his bedroom door while he was sleeping.

Dear Adam,
Please come see me and your mother after your morning ablutions. We have much to discuss.
Your Loving,
Father

So Adam had hurried through his morning bath, took special care in combing his hair and dressing neatly, then set off for the king’s office. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside.

“You wanted to see me, Father?”

An exceedingly strained smile on his face, Randor said, “Good morning, Adam,” and gestured the prince to a seat before his desk. Adam expected him to sit down then, but he went to stand before the fireplace instead. Hands clasped behind his back, the king stared into the flames.

Finally, just when the prince was beginning to doze off, the king said, “Adam, you know your mother and I love you?”

Sitting up straight, the prince mumbles, “Yes, Father. I know that.”
Sighing, shoulders slumping, Randor said, “Then I hope you’ll forgive us for lying to you all these years.”

“What?”

“Adam, you are not an only child. Your mother and I had two children, a son and a daughter, but one of them was stolen by our enemies while still a baby and spirited away. Now, praise the Elders, that lost child has been returned to us, and we can be a whole family once more.”

Jumping to his feet, the prince began to yell. “How could you lie to me about something like that Father? “How could you not tell me that I had a sister?”

Randor turned to face him, a guilty grimace on his face. “Because… because you never had a sister, Adam.” The prince gaped at him. “It was our son, the crown prince who was stolen. But we knew that the kingdom of Eternia would not long survive without a male heir to the throne, so we called upon the Sorceress of Grayskull to aid us in our time of need.”

The world spun dizzyingly as the prince of Eternia fainted in his father’s arms. When he awoke, he was laying on a couch against the back wall of the king’s office. He could hear three voices – his father, his mother, and a strangely familiar male voice.

“Thank the Elders you have returned to us at last, my son,” Randor was saying to that third voice. “Your sister did the best she could to be you, but she was always too soft-hearted and cowardly to be a real man.”

“Don’t worry, Father. You can return her to the princess she was meant to be, and I shall protect her,” that third voice said solemnly. Peering up over the edge of the desk, Adam saw a man who looked just like him but with more muscles and stern gaze.

Crying, the queen said, “At last, my little girl will be returned to me. I can’t wait to dress her up.”

Jumping up, Adam ran screaming from the room. Maybe Skeletor would let him join up? Maybe he could join a traveling circus? Or maybe he’d just throw himself off the nearest cliff?

Plague of Doubts

This is an idea I've had for a long time. It could be made into a longer story, and I have plans for such someday. For now, this is what you get. :-)

***

Plague of Doubts

Mekanek wandered into Man-At-Arms’ laboratory, arms stretched out over his head, yawning loudly. The man himself was standing at a workbench, bent over a microscopic viewer and tapping something into a datapad. “Morning, Mekanek,” Duncan said without looking up from his work. “Did you get enough sleep last night?”

Mekanek yawned again. “Yeah,” he finally managed to mumble. “I’m just beat overall. It’s been a long week.”

Man-At-Arms looked up and gave him a smile. “You were a great help to Healer Dorgan this week. “With the Cligian Plague breaking out, I’d hate to think what state we’d be in if we hadn’t finished all the genetic inoculations when we did.”

Mekanek laughed. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He pulled a chair out from beneath the workbench and sat down straddling it. “I still can’t believe that we managed to genetically type and inoculate fifteen thousand people in less than a month. I never even got out into the city. I was hip-deep in Masters, courtiers and palace guards who needing typing… and the royal family of course.”

Mekanek watched Duncan’s reaction closely, and as he’d expected, the other man seemed to freeze for a moment. His immobilization was brief, almost non-existent, but it was telling. He knows I suspect. Elders, that means there is something to suspect.

Duncan turned and faced Mekanek, leaning back against the counter. For several long second he just stared at his fellow Master, then, hesitantly, he said, “You… typed the royal family yourself?”

“I did,” Mekanek confirmed.

“Did anyone help you?”

“Nope.”

“I see,” Duncan said quietly.

And he does see, Mekanek thought nervously. I didn’t want this to be true. Why couldn’t I have been wrong? Damn and blast!

“You know,” Mekanek said, “they were just inventing genetic typing when I was a scrawny little student. But one of teachers was very scientifically oriented and very forward thinking.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. He taught how to type people. Taught how many different genotype categories there are. Taught how to figure out what a kid’s genotype category would be based on the categories of his parents...” Duncan said nothing, merely watched Mekanek with a blank expression. Only his eyes gave him nerves away. They were dark and filled with growing fear.

Taking a deep breath, Mekanek went on. “I still remember how it all works, and I noticed something odd while I was typing the royal family.”

Duncan’s eyes closed and he slumped against the counter. “It would have to you. I suppose it could have been worse though. It could have been someone who would have broadcast the news without coming to me first.”

“Duncan, I would never do that. But I do think that I deserve some kind of explanation.” His anger growing, the Master leapt to his feet. “What happened? I would have sworn that you and Marlena were devoted to Randor! How could you do this to him? How could either of you do this? What were you thinking?”

Duncan’s head snapped up. “What?” He shook his head. “No. No, you don’t understand. I – we’d better send for Randor.” So saying, Duncan pulled out a comlink and put a call through to the king. Mekanek dimly heard Randor’s voice responding that he would be there momentarily.

“Huh?” Mekanek took off his helmet and rubbed his forehead. “You’re turning yourself in?”

Mekanek nodded and the two men waited, Mekanek returning to his chair, and Duncan pulling one out for himself. They sat in silence. When Randor came in and saw them, he stopped cold in his tracks.

“What on Eternia has happened?” he demanded, his eyes very wide. “You two look as if someone has died!” When they started to stand, he waved them back to their seats and pulled out a crate to sit on. “Well?”

“Mekanek did the genetic typing for your inoculations,” Duncan began.

“Is that all?” Randor exclaimed.

“He knows, sire.”

The king grinned wryly. “Well, there’s a reason that I told Dorgan to do ours himself or to have someone he utterly trusted do them. In fact, I suggest Mek here as an alternative.”

“His biological father, yes,” Randor said calmly. His tone and expression were calm and completely untroubled, further confusing the Master. “I am his father, Mekanek. I just am not his blood father. Duncan performed that – invaluable – service for me.”

“So you knew all along?”

“Of course I did.” Randor sighed sadly. “I’m sterile, Mek. I have been every since Keldor hit me with that spell on the plains of Tarsos. The radiation messed everything up. Marlena knew, and we were both willing to adopt, but then the Elders make me the bloody king. Suddenly, well, we had to have a child that looked like he really was mine.”

“So Duncan and Marlena… ”

“Nothing so vulgar,” Duncan hissed. “Dorgan took a sample of my – ”

“Never mind!” Mekanek said quickly. “I get the idea.”

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Randor asked quietly.

“Is that an order from my king?”

Randor shook his head. “No. Just a request from a worried father. Adam… wouldn’t understand. Especially not now, when he’s going through that hard age.”

“I’ll never breathe a word!” Mekanek swore. “Never.”

“Thank you,” Randor and Duncan said in unison, and Mekanek was struck by just how far Randor’s man-at-arms would go in the service of his king. Randor is raising Duncan’s son while Duncan raises someone else’s daughter. The world is an odd place.